written by owen on 2016-Mar-23.

I have no idea what I want to do for my birthday which is not unsual. Birthdays for me are a constant yearly reminder than I am not young anymore and that all the things in my head are memories of a state in a time of a place where which why once was then how. I head to a point in time, I reach quickly then I am glad that it is over but miss the old days, only to find a new destination but heading is slow and nothing ever completes. The slow life is a cycle.

I have realised that most people are just kids inside old bones. They all want the same things that they wanted as a child and the world is just not letting them go outside and play in the rain. Not a care in the world.

If there was one thing I would hope other people would understand about me is that I am only good at a few things. Hell is other people. Obsessions. The few things are not interchangeable. They cannot be swapped out and replaced like words in a picture, seasons in a year. I am not a seed in the desert hoping for rain. A flower waiting to bloom. Life ain't always what it seems. The speed of light.

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